Give It Up
by CinderellaxVan
Summary: [AU] Commitment free. Never the same employer; only one trusted messenger who has sworn with his life. Get the job done, get the cash, get out. It's always get, not give. Enter the Dragon. Now it's personal. Up the ante and do it with style...
1. Do As I Say

GIVE IT UP | {Do As I Say}

Wispy asymmetrical bangs shaded orbs of sapphire blue as a young woman crossed her smooth legs, taking a sip of her Caribbean Smuggler. Threads of Bacardi, orange, lemon and lime weaved over her tongue down her throat as her gaze skated back and forth the club. 

"Everybody comes to Hollywood," she mused wryly, a curtain of thick lashes fanning down over her eyes. Tilting the glass in her hand, the woman allowed a cube of ice to slide down into her mouth. Several bodies dressed in the latest fashions packed the club as they all flaunted their dance moves, flirted slyly, and allowed themselves to belong in the crowd. Sucking on the ice cube thoughtfully, the woman uncrossed then crossed her legs, ignoring the men eyeing her from the side. 

'Rush' was the hottest and most elite club in Fanelia, and once you got in you were told to savor each minute because once you got kicked off the list you were off for life. Straightening up primly, the woman turned around on her stool and gazed at the condensation that had appeared on the outside of her cup due to the cold temperature. Picking the now empty tumbler up nonchalantly, the woman took the bottom edge of the glass and rolled it across the paper coaster, flitting her blue eyes to the bartender who was looking at her. Continuing with her agonizingly slow roll on the paper coaster, she dragged her teeth across her bottom lip before setting it down. "That'll be all Dilandau," she smiled, her lips moving only ever so slightly, but the mischievousness in her eyes compensated. Gathering her purse, the woman left through the back door of the club, the only sign she had been there at all a cloud of lily perfume. 

Setting the tumbler into a bin gently with all the other dirty glasses, the albino skated his red eyes across the scenery. After casually moving some bottles of vodka around, he picked up the paper coaster and using the bar counter as a shield from view, he groped for his lighter. Flicking his wrist, causing the silver lid to snap back, he held the flame against the coaster, his face void of any concentration or emotion. The orange fire danced, close but not touching the thick paper, and as the light shone against the pattern the woman had made with the glass, luminescent letters were visible. Snapping the lighter shut, Dilandau tossed the coaster into the garbage and slinging the rag off his shoulder he wiped down the counter calmly. 

[__][__][__]

Stiletto heels clicked against rain swathed sidewalk as a sleek black car rolled by. Silk glove covered fingers tightened their grip on the woman's purse, and walking purposefully over to the approaching phone booth she opened the small bag and flourished a white handkerchief. Wrapping the receiver in the white material, the woman slid a shiny quarter into the slot and dialed. The ring of the phone sounded in her ear three times before the other end picked up.

"Hello?"

"You have three hours," the woman spoke in an immaculate British accent. 

"What?! I can't--" came the urgent reply, however the woman just hung up crisply. Unraveling the handkerchief from the receiver, the woman folded it into a neat square before planting a red lip stick mark on it. Tucking it inside the slot where extra change would come out, she strode away serenely, her raven colored ponytail swinging gently. 

[__][__][__]

"Hello?"

"They've outbid you."

"Shit," was the reply. 

"They have three hours to deliver the cash. If they don't, the balls in the air," Dilandau spoke into the receiver, cupping his hand over his mouth to amplify his voice slightly. 

"Have they tracked her yet?" 

"They've been waiting for her call all night," Dilandau laughed dryly, "Of course they've tracked her. At the time, that is. She's long gone by now." 

There was a silence on the other end, and Dilandau crossed his arms. 

"Tell her the dragon's hungry."

Dilandau frowned slightly at the comment, but made a sound of acknowledgement. Replacing the receiver, he turned around and nodded at the man sitting at the counter.

"What can I get you?"

The man looked down in his lap for a moment, the looked up, a lopsided smile curling up on his features.

"A Caribbean Smuggler." 


	2. Just So You Know

GIVE IT UP | {Just So You Know}

Hot water streamed from the chrome shower head, hitting the bare neck of a woman as she gathered up her blonde hair, working shampoo into the strands. Releasing her wavy locks she tilted her head back and smoothed her hands over her face allowing any stray suds to wash away. Picking up her sleek bottle of shower gel and popping the cap open, the shrieking of her telephone ringing pierced the quiet atmosphere. 

"Who the hell could that be?" she wondered as she turned the water off hurriedly, grabbing the fluffy white towel from a wicker basket and wrapping it around her torso. "If it's a telemarketer I swear I'll kill them..." she trailed off, wiping her feet on the bathroom mat and sprinting out of the bathroom. Grabbing the cordless, she pressed the on button before saying a breathless 'hello'. 

"Hey Baby Blue," came a roguish smirk, and the woman laughed lightly, tightening the towel around her and sitting on the mahogany coffee table. 

"Hey, what's up?" she replied, eyeing the wet puddles trailing from the bathroom to the living room. 

"Do you feel like dressing all pretty and running the bar for an hour or so?" the speaker wheedled, and the woman exhaled sharply.

"Dilandau, I was just in the middle of a shower."

"So finish it up, change and get down here!" Dilandau urged, leaning against the bar counter, red eyes lingering over the pattern on his lighter. "Come on Celena, I know you love attention. With you tending, crowds of guys will be ordering drinks and flirting like fools." 

"I don't flirt back," Celena replied indignantly, "It's not my fault they can't resist me," she joked. 

"So you'll do it?" Dilandau confirmed, pleased as he uncrossed his arms and straightened up. Running a hand hurriedly through his silver hair, a line creased his forehead as Celena didn't reply for a moment.

"...What are siblings for if they don't take over shifts while you go have fun," Celena quipped dryly, "I'll be there in thirty minutes."

[__][__][__]

"I'm glad you came," husked the red head, her gray eyes glimmering with pleasure. Dilandau gave her a self indulgent smile as he lifted one arm and placed it on the wall behind her. It was quiet and dark, the only light a single bulb above the door in the alleyway. 

"And pass up a chance to see you?" he teased, hooking a strand of hair behind her ear, "Never."

"Do I hear sarcasm in your voice?" she smirked slyly, leaning in slightly. 

"Me? Sarcastic? That would be like saying I'm enjoying this greatly," Dilandau grinned, his auburn eyes flickering with amusement. 

"Are you?"

Dilandau looked down at the red head for a moment, locking gray eyes with his own. Running his tongue along the back of his teeth absentmindedly, he leaned in closely. Their lips were millimeters apart, and Dilandau could feel the heat from her body radiating. Bringing his free hand to her waist, he drew her in from her spot leaning against the wall. It was like there was nothing else in the world, they'd be safe here. 

[__][__][__]

True to Dilandau's word, tons of men were flocking at the bar, smiling lazily as she kept her gaze down on the counter. She had on a large crisp white man's shirt which she had tugged tightly around her torso and tied in the back, sleeves rolled up. White blonde hair was twisted up in a knot which allowed everyone to peer at her large, dreamy blue eyes which always seemed to be wide; full of a mixture of surprise and shyness. 

Slinging the rag that she had been using to wipe the counter with over her shoulder, Celena leaned on the back bar slightly. She pretended not to hear the men talking lowly about her and her figure, the drunker speakers the louder ones. 

"Look at that rack..."

"Yeah, booty call." 

"Hey look, her thong's peeking out a bit," one of them muttered, and clenching her jaw Celena tugged her black tailored pants up slightly.

"Dude, I think she heard you," one of them laughed lowly, and they all got up and went over to the dance floor. 

Sighing, Celena looked at the watch dangling on her left wrist. About twenty more minutes of this. Lowering her eyes, she recalled the conversation with her brother. True, she adored attention. But as years went by she became more of a product to men, she was always seen as just a shag. And they always had to be drunk. 

"Martini please." 

Not even looking up, Celena slowly gathered the bottles and shook up some vodka and vermouth. Pouring the clear liquid into a frail martini glass and dropping a green olive in, she pushed it forward and put the money into the register. Rolling her neck slightly, ridding it of any kinks, Celena wished she could go back home. Dilandau had this idea that she was so confident, like him... 

_Late night, in a lonely city...  
So hard, she tries to look pretty,  
Boys don't even notice her though,  
She's in need of attention so..._

Smiling dryly to herself, she propped up her chin on her hand. The only man who made her feel good about herself was Dilandau. Everyone else just made her feel so... Worthless. They could sing her praises but she saw the look in their eyes, it was hunger. And they would settle for whatever pretty face they got. 

"Excuse me, what would you recommend?" came a deep masculine voice. Looking up, her eyes scanned the speaker's own deeply. 

"Uh, that depends," Celena finally said slowly, keeping her expression cool. 

"Well, if you were at my place," the man said wryly, "...I mean in."

_Says she's got it all, says she's got it all, says she's got it all,  
I don't wanna be the one to tell her that she don't,  
Says she's got it all, says she's got it all, says she's got it,  
I don't wanna be the one to tell her that she just don't,  
__Says she's got it all, says she's got it all, says she's got it..._

[__][__][__]

A few people walking past the alley flickered their eyes down the long path and walked away briskly after noticing the dark outlines of two people in a very provocative position. Lowering his head to her ear he parted his lips slowly.

"The dragon's hungry."

"Shit. That throws things a bit off," the red head murmured, hooking her leg around the back of Dilandau's leg.

"I figured it meant something. They told me to tell you that," he replied quietly as he rubbed her back as if really into it. 

"That means even if _they_ find me, I owe the dragon the favor. I'm on his side that means, no matter what."

"Should I tell them?" Dilandau asked, pushing her gently against the wall. 

"No. If we're lucky they won't find me and we can say the dragon did afterwards," the red head said slowly. 

"They've got good technology and amazing agents," Dilandau trailed off, lowering his head to her neck and moving it gently. His lips never touched her skin, however.

"Not better then me," the red head smirked, and Dilandau straightened up. "Got a light?"

"What do you think?" Dilandau laughed, and taking the lighter out of his pocket he handed it to the woman. Running her thumb against the small metal wheel, a few sparks flying as a small flame ignited. Yanking off her red wig she walked over to a metal trashcan and held the fake hair over it. Catching the auburn locks on fire, she gently lowered it into the foul smelling container as it slowly burned to nothing. 

"Thanks," she smiled, the flames in the trashcan illuminating the smooth lines of her face. Flickering her gray eyes over to the ladder a few feet above her head, she extended her hand to Dilandau. 

"Bye sugar," Dilandau smirked as he shook her hand firmly, and laughing lightly the beauty looked up at the ladder before jumping and grabbing the first rung. Eventually making it all the way safely onto the ladder, she waved down at Dilandau absentmindedly before climbing up deftly, melting into the shadows. 

[__][__][__]

Walking up to a pay phone, a man ran his fingers inside the change slot to find something soft. Pressing down and dragging the material out he flicked the white bundle open briskly, revealing a bright red lipstick mark on the white polyester blend material. Crumbling it into a ball and shoving it into the pocket of his leather jacket, he hopped onto his chrome Harley and roared down the street. Was he going backwards or forwards? The man clenched his jaw slightly as wind sailed through his hair. He could feel the small cardboard box containing a pair of gray colored contacts digging into his leg slightly as street lights whirred by him. Three items. The handkerchief, the box, the Caribbean Smuggler. If the points were plotted on a map it formed a small triangle, and she would be within it. 

Still, a needle is hard to find in hay no matter how big the bundle is. 


End file.
